Yesterday I took my new little kitten to the vet again to get his ulcerated eyes checked on. I was supposed to drop him off around 10:00 a.m., but I managed to sleep through my alarm, and didn’t get there until 11:00 a.m. Given that I don’t own a car, and had to cycle five miles uphill, in the heat and humidity, with the cat in a carrier slung over my shoulder (there are closer vets, but this one is super cheap), I wasn’t amused to discover that the vet’s practice was closed for some odd reason, and wouldn’t be open again until 2:00 p.m!
I really had no desire to take the cat home with me, as that would have been a total waste of time. Also, I was very concerned about his eyes and I really wanted them to be examined again. I was also desperate to get him de-wormed ever since discovering an adult tapeworm in his shit that was so big I could have sworn it winked at me.
I decided that the only thing for it was to leave the kitten on the vet’s back porch, and to leave a message on the vet’s voicemail letting him know he was there. I also had a client to see shortly afterwards, so I couldn’t hang around until 2:00 p.m. Unfortunately, the vet’s back yard was entirely fenced off, so I had to scale the fence to leave him on the porch. A girl who had turned up with a sick Bassett Hound puppy helped me scale the fence by holding a wheelie bin (“garbage cart” to you North American types) steady, so I could stand on top of it. This nice wholesome American girl never mentioned anything about trespassing laws at the time, so I didn’t think much of my actions.
Also, there just happened to be a ladder lying on the ground on the other side of the fence (which greatly facilitated the return journey) and it seemed to me that this was just the universe’s way of telling me to leave the kitten on the back porch!
While I was scaling the fence, some old, crazy, drunk, toothless homeless lady with a black-eye and a bad attitude staggered up muttering something incoherent that contained the word “illegal”. Since I couldn’t make out a word she was saying and had no desire to engage her in conversation (as she was clearly the type who would rant at you if given the chance), she tottered off in the direction of some nearby shops.
Just when I was back safely on the other side of the fence, and was looking back, with my heart breaking, at my poor kitten in its carrier case on the porch (“Would he think I was abandoning him?”; “What if something happened to him?”), I noticed a police car pull up.
Then a second one.
Then a third one.
I was surrounded by three cops! (and the cops in this part of the world are not nice!)
Apparently, the crazy homeless bitch (no doubt ecstatic at finally being able to get her revenge on somebody “privileged”) had gone off to the shops to get somebody to call the police on me! An attempted (cat) burglary had been reported! I wonder why they thought I was carrying a kitten. Perhaps they thought he was my accomplice, and I was going to push him through a narrow window and get him to open a door. You know like Bill Sykes did with Oliver Twist?!
For a few terrible moments, I imagined myself and kitten wearing striped prison pyjamas and locked up in the country jail. However, luckily I had my trusty weapons with me, which saved the day – my vagina and my accent!
The officers were briefly stern with me, but once I muttered something in my “adorable” “foreign” accent about how I was just trying to save a itsy bitty kitten, who could clearly be seen in the cat carrier on the porch, they were very pleasant. It’s at times like these that I’m grateful I’m a girl and I’m a foreigner. It also doesn’t hurt that my countrymen and countrywomen have a very good reputation abroad (unlike, say, a slighly larger country to the south). Before long one of the policemen was sharing stories of his time working with some of my countrymen in his old job and how they were a lot of fun to be around.
They even shook my hand before sending me on my way!
And you’ll be glad to know that the kitten is now safely home after his close encounter with the law, and his eyes are better, too! No thanks to that crazy homeless woman, though! Since when did the down-and-out and the dispossessed become allies with the police!?